


Brought to Light

by Infie



Series: On The Road [4]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-07 22:58:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4281159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Infie/pseuds/Infie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Felicity asks Oliver about his dragon tattoo.  To his surprise, he wants to tell her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brought to Light

Her fingers across his shoulder blade were a feather-soft caress. Little shivers fluttered across his skin and he thought for a second that he was going to actually twitch like a horse shaking loose a fly, but then she dropped a kiss onto his arm and the quiver stilled. Her fingers stroked again, a little more firmly this time, and he gave a soft hum of contentment. 

“This is such an unusual tattoo,” she said softly. “Will you tell me about it?” 

He kept his eyes closed and his breathing even, careful not to show her his reaction to the question. The warm press of lips against his bicep again told him he’d failed, as he always did when it came to her. She didn’t push him and he knew that she wouldn’t; if he didn’t want to talk to her about it, she’d leave it alone. It surprised him to realise that he _did_ want to tell her. 

Or, maybe it wasn’t a surprise. He wanted her to know him. He wanted her to know everything. 

“Shado had this tattoo on her shoulder,” he finally told her. Her fingers jerked, just the slightest hesitation before continuing their long soothing motions. “After Slade found out about how Shado died, that it was as a result of my choice,” he couldn’t keep the self-loathing out of his voice and she kissed his arm again, this time adding a little nip at the end in reprimand. He smiled and continued, his eyes still closed. “He captured me, and he tortured me to try and draw out the prisoners who had escaped the Amazo. There was an engineer who Slade needed to fix the engines.” He licked his lips, feeling the ghost of the chains around his wrists, the phantom dark hum of electricity waiting to be raked down his ribs. “While he was waiting for them to decide what to do, he had one of the men create this. He wanted me to be marked by a tangible reminder of who she was, something to punish me in a way the torture couldn’t. To remind me of my failure.” He took a slow, metered breath. “Before he killed me.” 

It took him a moment to notice that her fingers had stopped and he opened his eyes to see hers looking at him gravely from inches away. “Tell me you don’t keep it as penance.” 

“Not anymore.” God, he was glad he could answer her honestly. “For a long time, yes. I’ll never not feel guilty, but the dragon… now it’s a symbol of who she was, of honour.” 

“Hmmmm.” She traced the outline with long sweeps of her finger. “I like him. He’s quite dignified. He looks a little like he’s staring down his nose at me.” 

He grinned and turned onto his side to face her. “You’re saying he looks, what? British?” 

She laughed. “Absolutely.” She grinned at him and pressed her palm over the Bratva mark on his chest, and he braced himself for her next question. She surprised him again. “Aren’t you going to ask me about _my_ tattoos?” 

He tilted his head. “Nope. For one, I’ve examined every beautiful inch of you, and you don’t have any. Secondly, you’re Jewish. Tattooing is forbidden.” 

She laughed again in delight and threw herself against him, rolling them until he was flat on his back with her resting her crossed arms over his chest. “I used to draw on myself with permanent markers,” she admitted unabashedly. “Butterflies and unicorns, skulls and knives.” She saw the expression on his face and shrugged. “I always wanted to be a pirate.” She shut one of her eyes and twisted her mouth. “Arrrrrr.” 

“Of course you did.” He was grinning at her like an absolute loon. All he could picture in his head was a tiny Felicity, curls bouncing and face screwed up with concentration as she drew precise, carefully accurate rainbow skulls and crossbones up and down her arms and legs. 

“My mom did extra hours at Treasure Island,” she said, “So I had lots of samples to work from.” She wriggled a little closer and started drawing on his chest with her fingertip. “I came close, actually, during my ‘Goth Phase’.” Even without making the air quotes he could hear the capitals in the way she said it. “I almost got a little globe and axe.” At his confused frown, she said, “‘Hack The Planet?’” He lifted his eyebrows in belated understanding. “Yeah, well. Luckily, it was Saturday when I’d finally decided to get it done, and my mom had the day off so we went to synagogue. After that, I just couldn’t do it.” She lowered her voice. “My rabbi just kept… staring at me. Like _he knew_. And disapproved.” She shuddered. “He had black, beady eyes, just like a kangaroo.” 

He laughed. 

“So, I limited myself to my terrible artistic marker stylings.” She beamed at him, clearly thrilled with his amusement. Her smile was glorious. 

“Do you still make them?” 

“All the time!” She nodded. “If you’re lucky, maybe I’ll draw some on you, too. Hey,” she tapped his chest with her finger. “I’m impressed you knew that. Have you been studying again?” 

He faked a look of surprise. “Again?” 

“Do I need to _hock_ you until you admit it?” Amused challenge danced in her eyes. 

“It’s a part of you,” he told her, giving in. “I want to know everything, I want to understand it all. I don’t want to leave anything out.” 

“God, you are such an overachiever.” She sat up and threw a leg over him so that she was above him on her hands and knees. She tipped her head forward, circling them both in a curtains of glimmering blonde hair. “Oliver?” 

He was mesmerized by the sunlight glinting off the golden strands, by the soft curve of her lip so tantalizingly close to his own. He brought his eyes up to hers with an effort. “Felicity?” 

“I love you,” she told him sincerely, and kissed him. 

His arms came up to wrap around her securely and he rolled them onto her back, settling comfortably between her thighs with a contented groan against her lips. Her hands slid to his chest, one covering his Bratva tattoo and the other sliding over the Chinese characters on his ribs on its way to other, more interesting places. He wanted to tell her about them, wanted her to know him as thoroughly as he intended to know her. 

Her fingers curled over his hip and slipped between them, wringing a surprised moan from him and driving any thought of his markings from his head. 

He’d still tell her whatever she wanted to know. 

Her hand tightened. 

_Later._


End file.
